Bourne No More
by Sheilynn
Summary: FFA 761…BuffyJason Bourne. You can't run forever.


Disclaimer: BtVS characters belong to Whedon, et al, and the character of Jason Bourne belongs to Universal Studios, et al.

A/N: I didn't think I had it in me to do another FFA story, but at least I can claim that I didn't say I _wouldn't_ write another one. It's not very 'Christmas-y', but I think it's at least interesting. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: FFA #761…Buffy/Jason Bourne. You can't run forever.

I

I

I

**Bourne No More**

She'd been watching him for some time.

He was relatively young, probably five or six years older than her, brown hair with gold highlights, and stunning blue eyes…he was ruggedly handsome, she admitted to herself.

Buffy didn't know what it was about him that caught her attention…maybe it was the eyes. They carried the same shadow as her own, which told her that he had seen some ugly things in life…as had she.

Nah.

It's more likely that the gun-toting guys chasing him, was what caught her attention.

She had to admit he was creative in his escapes.

It piqued her interest…so, she followed him.

He almost caught her a couple of times, an impressive feat for a regular human.

But, in the end, he never saw her.

A few times he almost shook her from his trail, but Buffy could thank her Slayer skills for keeping track of him – after all her 'eww'-ing about Angel's vampire 'sniffing', she was forced to fall back on picking up the young man's scent to get back on his trail again…something she would deny to her death.

She held back from directly helping him, knowing she had no way to counter gun-shots…at least for the most part. If a dumpster, or some other moveable object, just _happened_ to get in the way of the guys chasing the young man…well, no one could pin it on her.

Of course, those gun-toting guys probably wondered how one of them was taken out by a flying dog – it amused her to remember how well she threw the Great Dane, and the accuracy…well, Giles might not be amused, but Buffy saw the flashing grin of the young man as he caught a glimpse of the dog's butt sitting on the face of the downed man. He knew his silent follower had helped him out on that one.

Maybe that was why he stopped trying to shake her.

But that didn't mean he tried to stop finding out who she was.

Somehow he knew when she was around. He left a folded note on a table in front of a small café, knowing she would see it. Then he left, only to come back later to see the folded paper still there.

He was disappointed.

That is, until he opened it.

Underneath his words 'Who are you?', an answer was written…

'Think of me as your guardian angel. I'm watching your back…you interest me.'

The only thing he had discovered was that his follower was a 'she', based on the writing style, and that she was watching his back for no reason other than she was interested in him.

He briefly wondered if he should be worried, but figured that, if she was there to harm him, she would have already done so by now.

So, three towns and five large cities later, she still followed.

Buffy discovered many things about the young man in their travels.

He was innovative, knew how to use a lot of weapons, could fight hand-to-hand like no ones business, treated people well (when he could actually spend more than five seconds with them), and…wanted to be left alone to live a normal life. That mindset didn't exactly scream 'criminal' to her.

Unfortunately, _they_ wouldn't stop chasing him.

To Buffy, _they_ stank of the government…agencies she and her own people had gone head to head with a few times – there was definitely no love lost between them. And sometimes, to her disgust, there was an assassin or two thrown in to the mix.

All in all, Buffy had no qualms in helping the handsome fugitive. She even took out one of the assassins for him. Oh, she didn't kill the guy…but he would definitely be spending a lot of time in recovery and rehab, of that she was certain – and she had struck so fast, he would never know just _who_ had taken him out.

But the young man knew.

The assassin hadn't been _that_ far away. But, by the time he reached the area where he had heard the sounds of the scuffle, the only thing that remained was the broken, unconscious body of his would-be killer.

He knew he owed her one.

And so the odd game of hide and seek continued. He would run, she would follow, and they would play a friendly game of cat and mouse until the government caught up with him again…starting the process all over again.

But, no matter what skills he had, in the end, it was inevitable that the young man couldn't out-run the people who chased him.

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It all came to a head in Boston – in a part of town where old-style buildings were still predominant.

The young man swore as he looked at the tall brick wall in front of him, the only thing keeping him from escaping his enemies.

It was too late to head back out of the alley he was trapped in…the three men were too close on his heels, soon to be followed by squadrons of cars carrying a multiple number of people from various agencies.

The young man briefly wondered if he would be sitting in a cell for hours as they argued who would have the privilege of taking him in.

He clasped his arm close to his chest, the bullet lodged in his shoulder throbbing painfully, and turned to face his fate. He could sure use a miracle about now…or maybe his 'guardian angel'.

The three men entered the alley, grinning at the sight of their prey.

"So, Bourne…no where left to go, eh? This is going to look _really_ good on my resume, you know," Government flunky #1 smirked.

Bourne, yeah, that's me…Jason Bourne. A one-time government flunky, too, until a mission gone wrong – a mission that certain people within the U.S. government had been trying to cover up by taking out the last uncontrollable factor…me.

It didn't matter that I didn't want any part of that life anymore, or that I was relatively innocent of everything they were trying to pin on me…it came down to the fact that they couldn't control me anymore, so they wanted me gone. Permanently.

The three government goons were about half-way down the alley, slowly approaching with guns drawn. They weren't about to take the chance that I might try to escape.

"Down on the ground, Bourne…and put your hands out where we can see them," Government flunky #2 snarled, his gun not wavering from me.

And then I got my miracle.

"Eww…but the ground's so…_dirty_. I'm thinking, no," a feminine voice called out from behind the three men.

It disturbed me that even _I_ didn't see her approach, and I was facing her.

What happened next was too fast for even _my_ brain to comprehend…all I knew was that it involved fists, feet, and a flying garbage can lid, which resulted in the three men lying in an unconscious heap before me.

I couldn't make out her features in the shadows, but I could see that she was tiny, maybe 5' 3", and blonde. The woman cocked her head slightly, as if listening for something.

It was then that I made out the sounds of approaching squad cars, and tensed to run.

"They're too close to out-run," she said.

"Then what do you suggest," my pain made me sound a little harsh.

It was then that she approached, and I could now see that she was quite pretty…and lethal. There was death in her eyes, and I could only hope it wasn't mine.

"Trust me."

I looked down into her light-colored eyes incredulously…a part of my brain idly wondered if they were blue or green, or maybe both.

"What?!"

"I need you to trust me…that is, if you want to get away," she cocked her head questioningly. "You've got about 10 seconds to decide."

Ten seconds was a short time to decide whether or not to place your life into a stranger's hands, but given the circumstances…

"OK."

She quickly moved back towards the mouth of the alleyway, but stopped about half-way. She gestured me closer and bent down, cupping her hands.

"What?"

"Give me your foot, I'm gonna toss you up to the fire-escape…get ready to grab hold of the railing."

"What?!"

"Questions later, foot _now_."

When she saw my hesitation, she growled out, "If you don't give me your foot in the next two seconds, I'm leaving you behind."

I put my foot into her hands.

The next thing I know, I'm flying up…one…two…three stories. And if it wasn't for my finely-honed survival instincts, I might have been too shocked to grab hold of the railing.

As it was, my good hand shot out, my foot quickly following, and I found myself standing on the outer side of the third-story fire-escape railing…gaping like a fish.

I heard a sound below, and looked down to see the blonde woman latched on to the railing of the fire-escape on the second story. She quickly scrambled over and jogged up the stairs where I just stood there, staring.

"That side's not safe, you know…let's go," she said sharply, just before kicking in the door that led inside the building, and entering through the opening.

I quickly swung over the railing and followed her, shutting the door firmly behind me, so as to give the other pursuers no clue as to where I…we had gone.

I caught up with the blonde near the stairwell.

"They'll be swarming the streets, you know."

"Duh! That's why we're going up," she said, rolling her eyes at me.

"I'm sure they'll check the roof-tops…" I trailed off in question of just how she expected us to get away from the roof.

She just gave me a mysterious smile and began trotting quietly up the stairs.

I followed.

At the top of the stairs, we faced a locked door, but that didn't faze the young woman as she grasped the handled and wrenched it.

I heard the squeal of metal, and then the door was open.

"How did you…"

She shook her head and gave me a faint smile. "Questions later, escape _now_."

I was relieved that she didn't immediately pop her head over the side to look at the cars below…she must be one of the few civilians who took the 'How not to be so stupidly visible 101' course. It set my mind at ease…that is, until she grabbed my good arm and began to drag me to the side opposite the alley I had been trapped in.

"So, what now? Helicopter? Tight rope?" I asked a little sarcastically as we stopped several feet short of the edge.

She gave me an evil grin, making me wonder if I should regret my sarcastic tone.

"Nope."

"Then what?" I really hated not being the one in control.

She picked me up.

The _damn_ woman picked me up and cradled me in her arms like a baby as she said, "We jump."

A panicked look must have crossed my face, because she chuckled softly before running towards the edge, and leaping to the roof of the next building…_twenty friggin feet away_!

I just closed my eyes and held my breath.

After hearing a light thump and being mildly jolted, I heard her amused voice say, "We made it…you can open your eyes now."

She set me on my feet and walked away to the edge opposite the side we had just landed on.

I opened my eyes to see that, yes, we _had_ made it to the next roof…and that she had been smart enough to move us several feet in, so we weren't visible to the people on the street below.

"How…?" I gaped, then shook my head. "Never mind…questions later, escape now, right?"

She flashed a grin at me before looking at the next building.

"So, what now?"

"Same thing…we jump from building to building until we don't see flashy-lights anymore," she said as wiggled her fingers.

"Do I have to lose my dignity each time?" I gave her a half-smile.

"Sorry, but your knees won't be able to handle the landing," she looked apologetically at me before grinning again. "Don't worry…I won't tell anyone."

I upgraded her from pretty to beautiful – who wouldn't after seeing _that_ smile?

We made the jumps another seven times, until both of us believed it would be safer, and quicker, if we were on ground.

"Where now?"

"My place…it's safer than any hotel."

"You have a place? We've only been here for four days."

"It's a temporary spot, and one that those jerks are unlikely to frequent."

"Why is that?"

She just gave me another mysterious smile and walked away.

"Can I at least know who my rescuer is?" I asked a little flirtatiously as I hurried to keep up with her.

"Buffy Summers."

"Buffy?!" I gave her a disbelieving look.

She poked me in my injured shoulder, hard, and scowled. "Yeah…deal with it."

"Ow! OK…OK…Buffy it is," I said, shaking my head at such a…vapid name for someone who could take out three armed men, toss me up three stories, kick a door in, and jump roof-tops twenty feet apart while carrying a man who weighed nearly 13 stone. "I'm Jason Bourne."

"I know…it's kinda hard to miss your name when it's bandied about in underground bars."

We walked the next two miles in silence until Buffy pulled me into a darkened doorway to make a call on her cell-phone.

"Larry? It's your favorite little blonde…I need a favor. Got anyone who could pick me and one other person up? No questions asked? There's a hundred-note in it for them."

She paused as she listened for a response. A dark scowl crossed her face.

"A thousand?! Why you little dweeb! You're lucky I'm not close enough to rip your friggin head off! Two-hundred, and a promise not to shove my axe up your ass! And don't give me that 'He's got seven mini-squids to feed' crap…I ain't buyin' it! I know his kind can't produce more than two at a time, and fifty years apart, you little cheat! So, take it or leave it."

I stared at her…gawked would probably be more accurate. Squids? His kind?

A satisfied look came across Buffy's face as she gave the location where to pick them up.

"Our ride will be here in about ten minutes. You gonna be OK?"

I gave a sharp nod before pinning her with my best glare. "Are you going to explain all this? Because, I have to admit…_none_ of it's making any sense."

"Yeah, I'll spill once we get somewhere less…exposed, but…" she gave me a smirk, "…as to whether or not you'll believe it, well…that'll be up to you."

That made absolutely _no_ sense, but I held my tongue as we waited for our ride.

Nine minutes later, a dark car pulled up. The window rolled down far enough for Buffy to look in and tell the driver where to take us.

When we entered, I noticed that there was a dark window separating us from the driver, and it made me nervous enough for Buffy to notice.

"It's for _their_ protection…they can't be too careful. Don't worry, they know it's not good for their health to mess with me," the small blonde said calmly before turning to look out the window.

I sat back quietly, not bothering to ask questions I knew she wouldn't answer yet.

The ride took 20 minutes, and we ended up in a not-so-safe part of town. The perfect place to hide out…especially from spiffily-dressed government flunkies who would stand out like a sore thumb.

Buffy exited first, holding me back as she scanned the area. When she gave the all-clear, I emerged into a dimly lit street.

The window rolled down again, and Buffy pushed several bills through the crack.

"Give the little monsters a good scratch behind the gills for me, Grick…I probably won't be seeing you for a while," she slapped the top of the car. "Thanks for the lift."

The car drove off.

Taking me by the arm, Buffy pulled me into one of the less run-down buildings…up to the top floor.

Fishing out a set of keys, she opened the door to a small apartment and entered, leaving me to follow…or not.

I stepped in and shut the door behind me, scanning the room out of habit. It was no Hilton, but I've been in worse.

Buffy disappeared into what I believed to be the bathroom, emerging moments later with a first aid kit in hand. She gestured me to a chair.

With her help, I removed my heavy coat and the bloody sweater underneath, and straddled the chair, making my back available for her ministrations.

"Sorry, I don't have anything for the pain."

"Just do it…I'll deal."

I almost passed out from the pain, but the small blonde woman was able to quickly extract the bullet, and expertly patched me up in a way that told me she was used to dealing with injuries.

Thirty minutes later, I sat on the sofa, a bottle of water in hand, pinning Buffy with a look that said I wanted answers.

She gave them.

I laughed.

And someone banged on the door.

"Slayer!! Big-Bob wants you out…NOW!" male voice shouted through the closed door.

"I'm paid up through Thursday, Larry!" Buffy shouted back angrily.

"He saw who you brought…and he ain't happy. We've heard the news…he doesn't want the feebies crawling around 'cuz of some pinkie-fugitive!"

"If Big-Bob's got a problem, then he'll have to take it up with _me_, face-to-face! We aren't leaving!"

"Slayerrrrr…" Larry whined.

"Deal with it, Larry! Or send Big-Bob down, and I'll tell him myself."

Larry must have left, because he didn't answer.

"So, are you going to tell me the truth now?" I scowled.

She rolled her eyes at me.

"I have, and I'll prove it. Sit tight, and don't get involved," Buffy said shortly, then started counting down on her fingers. "Five…four…three…two…"

**_SLAM!_**

"One…Hi, Big-Bob," she gave a feral grin at the _thing_ that just broke the door down.

Yes, thing…because I sure as hell don't know what to call an eight foot tall, furry, purple, bi-ped.

Oh, yeah…Buffy called them demons. Stupid me.

I decided to take her advice and sat tight.

"Slayer…out…NOW!" Big-Bob roared.

"Make me," Buffy whispered dangerously.

Big-Bob attempted to do so, and I casually lifted my feet out of the way as his body was slam-dunked onto the coffee table. I hoped my nonchalant face was intact.

Buffy poked his chest with a wicked-looking weapon I hadn't even seen her obtain. It had a blade on one end, and a sharply pointed end on the other that was being jabbed onto the purple demon's chest in punctuation of her words.

"We will _leave_ (poke) when we're _ready to_ (poke). We'll try to be out of your _fur_ (poke) by tomorrow, midnight (poke). Until then, you will leave use alone (poke). And if I hear even a _whisper_ (poke) that someone squealed to the pinkies (poke), me and my girls will have a nice (poke), long (poke), _working_ (poke) vacation (poke), right here in your city (poke). Got that?! (poke)"

The demon nodded his head frantically.

Buffy stepped back and let the demon scuttle away.

Big-Bob didn't even close the door behind him in his rush to leave.

When she closed the door as best she could, Buffy returned to where I sat.

"So, ready to listen now?"

I shook my head in the negative. "I already listened, and just have one more question."

"What's that?"

"When do we leave?"

Buffy gave me a bright smile that I couldn't help returning.

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It was relatively easy to skip town. With a city the size of Boston, there was no way to close off all avenues of escape.

We didn't leave by the usual methods of travel to and from good ol' Beantown…those were too heavily guarded.

No, we took a not-so-well-known method…a car-full of Dartmouth theater students returning back to campus after a night on the town.

It was an experience.

Two and a half hours of singing and being forced to sing.

I took it in stride, laughing along with Buffy at the fact that, as it was pointed out _many_ times, we shouldn't give up our day jobs.

The kids let us crash in their dorm for the next couple of nights, until we could hitch a ride with another student who was heading for a short visit home in Buffalo, NY.

We didn't mind the delay, it gave us a chance to get to know each other, and supplement the few articles of clothing we had taken with us.

As we walked along the beautiful campus on our last day there, she slipped her hand into mine.

I arched an eyebrow at her in question.

"Handsome guy, pretty girl…people are gonna start to wonder why we're acting like strangers," she said blithely, waving her other hand in the air. "Besides, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm loosing my touch."

I chuckled and let go of her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulder.

"Much better," she said as she snuggled up to my side.

And on the steps of Baker Library, we shared our first kiss.

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We got to Buffalo in the late evening.

Not bothering to check into a hotel, Buffy called one of her friends in Cleveland to pick us up, and we spent the next few hours playing tourist.

I got my first taste of slaying that night, and it fit me like a glove.

With all the bits and pieces of memories, I'm surprised I hadn't come across anything from the demon world, given my life before. I guess I was extremely lucky.

Buffy grinned as I grumbled about the dust that coated my jacket, and bid me a saucy welcome to my new life…and offered to by me a pocket dust-buster.

I just grabbed her and gave her a big kiss, which she didn't complain about until she realized that I'd done it in order to transfer some of the vamp dust onto her.

She gave chase when I took off after flashing her an unrepentant grin.

While never letting our guards down, the two of us enjoyed a slice of 'normal', something that had been missing from both our lives for far too long.

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My biggest obstacle picked us up.

Buffy had warned me about her best-friend, and his tendency to be overprotective of her when it came to guys in her life.

Xander was a piece of work.

When he got out of the car, I sized him up as he approached us, and couldn't help but think 'canon fodder'…that is, until he glared at me suspiciously with his one good eye.

With subtle body movements, and hard eye, he conveyed all that he had experienced standing at Buffy's side…he was a fighter, and a survivor.

I respect that.

And when I subtly returned my own experiences, through eyes and body, he acknowledged it with a sharp nod, relaxing slightly when he got the message that I could handle myself, and would do anything to protect the woman at my side.

We found a middle-ground. We were fighters, survivors, and would do anything to keep Buffy alive. We were men.

At least we were until Buffy smacked us both on the back of the head and told us to stop posturing.

As we both watched her stalk to the car in irritation, Xander and I exchanged grins.

We were toast if we didn't get along, so we did…it really wasn't that hard to do, actually.

"Xander Harris."

"Jason Bourne…for now."

"Having an identity crisis?"

"Something like that."

I found a good friend that day.

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Buffy really _was_ my guardian angel. I didn't understand until later that, when I placed my trust in Buffy, when I chose to go with her, I gained family, friends, and most importantly, a purpose.

My integration into their group went a lot smoother than I thought it would, given their history. But when I thought about it, it made sense…they were a band of misfits, and me, not being able to fit anywhere else now, found the perfect place to call home.

I had a lot to offer them, what with the skills that had kept me alive longer than I thought would be possible…and they were ecstatic, and called me a welcomed gift.

But, with this group, gift-giving wasn't just one way.

Buffy gave me her heart, her fierce spirit and kind heart helping me to overcome the guilt of Marie's death that I had carried for over a year.

Xander gave me the gift of male companionship in a group overflowing with pre-pubescent girls.

Giles gave me the gift of a quiet haven to escape to when the youthful energy got to be too much.

But Willow…out of all of Buffy's friends, she gave me the greatest gift of all…an identity.

It still amazes me…magic. With a simple spell on, an insignificant piece of jewelry, Willow provided me with a way to disappear in plain sight. I was still me, but to everyone except Buffy and the Scoobies, I looked like a blonde-haired, green-eyed, pleasant-faced man…but, nobody worth mentioning.

I could walk around free as a bird…not having to worry about being recognized by face, voice, DNA, _or_ fingerprints. As long as I wore the ring, I was someone else to anyone who cared to glance my way.

I was Bourne no more.

But the small red-head firmly cemented my admiration of her by hacking into several different government mainframes and setting off an untraceable virus – one that was relatively harmless…unless someone tried to access information on _me_, that is. At that point, the little itty-bitty magic-driven virus gained some nasty teeth…and chewed its way through all my files on their database until they shut it down.

I'd be surprised if there's much information left, except for the stuff on paper – but Willow says she's working on that too.

I was free to have a normal life – at least as normal as it can be when training hundreds of Herculean teenagers that looked at me with goo-goo eyes.

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_One year later…_

David entered his home and closed the door behind him, sharply pulling his head to the side in an absentminded manner as a knife embedded itself into the wall, inches from his ear.

"Hi honey…how was your day?"

The only answer was another knife being thrown at him…this time, aimed at his groin. He casually moved his briefcase in front of him at an angle, stopping the knife's trajectory. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

"That good, huh?"

He set the case on a side table, and began to remove his jacket with one hand, the other being occupied in capturing a small paper-weight, made out of stone, that was headed straight for his face. He set it next to his case.

"Did you remember to eat the soda-crackers when you got queasy?"

There was a deadening pause before _two _missiles bore down on his head. He threw his jacket at the coat-tree, and caught the objects, one in each hand. He set the two projectiles down next to the first.

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

David Summers (formerly known as Jason Bourne, to a few select people), removed his shoes and silently moved down the hallway of the foyer on bare feet, seeking out his hidden quarry before she could bean him for some, yet to be discovered, reason.

She may have had the advantage of being the ambusher, but _he_ had the advantage of being able move without excess weight.

From the trajectory of the flying objects, he knew just where she was hiding, and quietly slipped up behind her before she felt his presence. He spun her around and pressed her up against the wall, both wrists captured in his hands.

"What? No kiss hello?" he said as he slipped a knee between her legs and began nipping at her neck.

She growled.

David sighed.

"What did I do _this _time, Buffy?"

Even with the minimal movement allowed, she was still able to bean him pretty good with the stuffed pig she held in one hand.

"Butthead."

He nibbled at the sweat spot on her neck, and she relaxed, sighing in pleasure.

"A hint would be nice, honey…I'm not a mind reader you know," David said before kissing his way up to her lips.

Buffy hummed, but didn't say anything more.

"It must be pretty bad if it required two sharp objects and…" he looked down at the filled basket at her feet, "…every small throwable object in the house."

She glared at him.

"So, how was _your_ day? It had to be better than mine, _dear_…there's only so much _thumb-twiddling_ a person can do, you know."

"Now, Buffy…you know what the doctor said – no excessive activity until your stomach settles, so that means no fighting, mock or otherwise."

"Yeah…that's what he said to _you_!" she scowled at him.

David looked at her, startled. "What, did he tell you something different?"

"No, he just added something to it today."

"And what's that?"

"Most women have more difficulties during their pregnancy when they're expecting _twins_!" Buffy wrenched one of her wrists out of his hand and punched him in the stomach.

David let her go as he bent over, gasping for air.

"Twins?!" he panted out, eyes widening in surprise.

"And it's all _your_ fault…there sure as hell is no history of twins in _our_ 'pop one out and we're done' family tree!" she glared at him, hands on hips.

"Twins?"

A flicker of amusement crossed her face before the scowl was back.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

David just pulled her to him and kissed the daylights out of her.

"Ewww! Can't you guys wait 'til I leave first?" a female voice said in a disgusted tone. "You're giving me therapist-level trauma."

They both broke the lip-lock to see Buffy's sister, Dawn, covering her eyes with one hand while holding the other palm outwards in the standard 'stop' gesture.

"Hey Dawn…we're having twins!" David gave her a loopy smile as he pulled Buffy in front of him and pressed his hands against the swell of her 5-month pregnant belly.

"I know…Buffy demanded that I give her all the hard, throwable objects in my room, so she could show her displeasure towards you in the only violent way left to her. Did she get you?" Dawn asked as she dropped her hands and gave him an interested look.

"Nah…I think she has a soft spot for me. I avoided the knives and caught the three paper-weights she threw. If she was _really_ mad, my family jewels wouldn't have survived." He kissed Buffy's bare shoulder.

"TMI, David…TMI. I'm outta here…please wait until I actually exit the house before you start swapping spit again."

"And just where do you think _you're_ going, young lady!" Buffy said tartly.

"Xander's taking me out for dinner."

Both Buffy and David glared at her.

"You tell him, if his eye wanders, he loses it," Buffy growled.

"Buffy! I'm eighteen now! Stop mothering me!"

Their glares intensified.

"Fine! No wandering eye," the tall brunette groused as she stomped to the door. She wrenched it open and glared back at them. "But I'm telling him you didn't say anything about his hands!"

She flounced out, giggling at their outraged shouts of 'Dawn!'

Rushing to Xander's waiting car, she hopped in, shouting, "If you value your hands, go, now!"

Xander punched it, as soon as he saw Buffy and David emerging from the house with angry faces, and left a mile long trail of burnt rubber on the road behind him.

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Buffy and David were laughing as they entered their house.

"Did you see his face?"

"I'm thinking that, next time he comes here, he's going to be heavily armed…and maybe wearing his Puffy-Xander suit," Buffy giggled.

"Can you blame him? Between the two of us, there wouldn't be much of him left for Dawn to date," he chuckled as he pulled Buffy back into his arms. "So, are you still mad at me?"

Buffy sighed. "No…I just wasn't expecting the doctor to start talking about two heartbeats and double the fun."

"We'll handle it, honey – don't forget…we've got a multitude of babysitters at our beck and call."

She sighed again as she snuggled up to her husband. "So, how _was _your day…you were later than usual."

"I stabbed Kennedy again."

Buffy's head popped up, and she gave him an eager look. "Ooo…where? Where? Was there lots of blood and pain?"

"In the thigh, yes, and yes, my blood-thirsty little wife."

She pouted. "I have to get my fill of violence somehow, even if it _is_ vicarious. I miss our games of cat and mouse…throwing sharp objects at you and hearing about your stabbings of Kennedy is the only fun I have anymore."

She had such a twisted version of fun these days…I loved her for it.

"Kennedy's improving quite a bit now…she was able to hold onto her temper for a good two hours before I was forced to embed a sharp object into her body to get her to shut up."

"I never thought Willow and Giles would ever gang up on her like that, but I guess she went a little too far with her Hail Kennedy attitude. Who would have thought that withholding sex, and the organic compound the old Council used for that evil test on my 18th birthday, would bring her down to a manageable level. How much longer do you think you'll have to work with her?"

"If she can get to four hours and maintain that for a while, I think I could give her the green light to head home…maybe a couple more months. In the meantime, having to learn to fight from scratch is teaching her some good habits – she's picking up on it really well, and could be ready to teach some of the sloppier slayers by the time she leaves."

"That's good to hear. She might even be worthy of Willow by then. At least we're getting along better now…I hated it when Willow had to get in the middle of our screaming matches."

David's only reply was a muffled 'Mmmm' as he began nibbling at her neck again. As his lips traveled up, he softly said, "I think we need to talk about _you_ now, Buffy."

She stiffened in his arms as he lifted his head to give her a serious look.

"Giles suggested that you start learning how to read some of the languages, so you can help out in other ways."

"Why?" she gave him a suspicious look.

"Because you can't slay forever, honey, you know that. And we need to start thinking about our family…I don't want to be put into a situation where I have to explain to our kids why they don't have a mother anymore."

Buffy sobered at that. "I know…but I've never been good at learning languages, honey. I just can't seem to focus on all those dusty books."

"I've thought about that, and came up with an idea," he grinned at her, relieved that she accepted the thought of life beyond slaying. He tightened his arms around her waist, and looked down at her upturned face. "How about I give you a list of words to learn? At the end of the day I'll write them on my chest in body paint, and you can only lick it off if you know the word."

She perked up at that.

"Can we practice now? With English words? Lots of 'em?"

David gulped at her heated look.

"I'll get the paint."

"Don't bother…I'm in the mood for ketchup and grape jelly."

Buffy grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him off to the bedroom, choosing to ignore his grossed out expression.

If she was going to have to carry _his_ twins, he would have to deal with _her_ pregnancy cravings.

She just wouldn't tell him about the 'green olive, anchovy paste, peanut-butter, and pixie-stix on whole-grain bread' sandwich she had for lunch.

A man could only handle so much, and that would just be pushing it.

I

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That was kinda fun!

BTW, if anyone's curious, I chose the name 'David' at the end, due to what Jason Bourne's real name was revealed as, at the end of the movie.

Don't worry, I'm still working on my WIPs…I actually have a good 19 pages of Destiny Ch. 7. Woohoo!!

Please review!!


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